


Blood on the Beaches

by DoctorSnow



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Police Procedural
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-05 05:51:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6692158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorSnow/pseuds/DoctorSnow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaime Lannister, a brilliant but careless Narcotics detective, is ousted for his ways and transferred to Homicide, with a dedicated partner, hot on the trail of a dangerous serial killer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All characters belong to GRRM.

Jaime sat outside the office, tapping his feet discordantly.

He looked around, trying to assess how he got here this time. It was a regal office, only fitting for the Captain of the 12th precinct. He’d been here loads of times before. Most of those times ended with him walking out in a huff, having been put on administrative leave. He wasn’t sure it would end the same way this time.

His thoughts were interrupted by the violent ringing of the telephone on the desk of the Captain’s morbidly obese assistant. The whole department was into computers and all their gizmos, but she still had that vintage telephone back from when Jaime had just joined the precinct. Someday, someone would smash that telephone out of revulsion. Of the phone or her sullen demeanor, he couldn’t say. He wished he would be there long enough to see her face when they did. But judging by the way things had gone over the last few days, he didn’t think he had long.

“You can go in now.” The assistant called, looking at him derisively.

He had gotten used to that now. Over the last few days, Jaime had gone from being ’spoilt rich kid who wants to play cops’ to ‘spoilt rich kid who shot his partner’. He didn’t suppose being on the wrong side of forty stopped anyone from calling him a kid. The media hadn’t hesitated to blow this out of proportion. Detective Oakheart had also been real helpful in providing them the necessary details. He couldn’t blame him for that. Jaime was certain it would be just a flesh wound. He hadn’t counted on putting him out of action. _I did save his life, though_. He got up, straightening his jacket. He’d need all the luck he could get now, what with the media not really being too sensitive about the whole issue. The higher-ups may be forced to take action against him.

Breathing heavily, he knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

In the whole of King’s Landing, there was no cop Jaime looked up to more than Barristan Selmy. He was a man in his late fifties, but you couldn’t tell if you looked at him. His hair hadn’t yet turned to grey and his face had few wrinkles. There was still that energy and vigor in his eyes which he had when Jaime had first joined the precinct. He looked him over coolly as Jaime walked in.

“Have a seat, Detective.”

Jaime sat down cautiously, aware of the Captain watching his every move. What would be decided in this room in the next few moments would go on to change the future course of things, of that he was sure.

“Do you know why you’ve been called down here today, Detective?” the Captain asked him, grim-faced, his gaze fixed on Jaime.

Jaime nodded apprehensively.

The Captain’s features mildly lightened. “Good. I was hoping we wouldn’t have to go over that again.” He handed him a sealed envelope. “Here. New digs. You’re being transferred.”

He took it. Transferred? _Transferred?_ “I don’t understand, Sir. I thought a discharge might be in order.”

The Captain sighed. “So did I. But your father’s well-connected, it would seem.”

Jaime groaned. Not once during the fourteen years he’d spent serving the King’s Landing Police Department had he asked his father for help. He’d gotten to the point where he could look himself in the mirror and honestly say that he’d gotten to where he was on his merits alone. But Tywin Lannister, it would seem, just couldn’t let him be. He held up the envelope. “What’s in this again?”

He got an exasperated look for that. “Your new orders, Detective.” He then picked up his pen and continued with whatever it was he was doing before Jaime came in.

He stared at the dull brown envelope in his hands. He could feel sweat trickle down his forehead. He didn’t know why he was worried about the contents of the envelope. The Captain had already told him he would be shifting departments. What could be more important than that? Hands slightly shaking, he ripped open the envelope.

“Oh, take that outside, Detective. It’s not going to change anytime soon. And…they need people there.”

Disposing of the envelope as he walked outside, he stuffed the letter into his jacket pocket. He knew that he should just read what it said, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He stepped into the elevator, still ruminating. If not a discharge, then a desk job would be the next best thing. He’d bet anything it would be the evidence room. Filing and labeling and sorting. No better way to humiliate an accomplished narcotics detective who had proved his worth to the department many times over. He kept thinking of this as he walked in the chilly February air towards the nearest bar he could find.

  

* * *

 

 

He tried to put on his best smile as little Mary came to the door.

“Uncle Jaime, hi!” She hugged him.

“Hi, sweetie. Where’s daddy?”

“Who is it, Mary?” Arys called from his room.

“Don’t matter. I found him.” He said, picking her up. “Let’s go see how daddy’s doing.”

Arys Oakheart was on his bed, flipping through his telly. His leg was heavily bandaged. On the surface, it looked like a fracture, but it was clearly more than that. His eyes narrowed when he saw Jaime.

“Mary, go to your room.”

Putting her down, he sat at the foot of the bed.

“What are you doing here, Jaime?”

Jaime let out a deep breath. It was close to evening. He had stayed for a good few hours at the bar, dreading this meeting. Part of him felt guilty for having put Arys and his family in this position. The other part felt a blind rage, confused at why Arys would sell him out like that. “Where’s the wife?”

Arys shook his head. “She’s on a grocery run. What are you doing here, Jaime?”

He sighed. “I just came to see you. I thought that’s what friends do, Oak.”

Arys pulled into a sitting position. “Friends don’t shoot each other, Jaime.”

“Oh, come on. It was either that or watching him slit your throat.”

“How do you know I couldn’t have neutralized him?”

He had a point. Jaime moved to sit closer to him. “You’re right. I didn’t. At the moment, I did the only thing I thought I could do to save my partner’s life, even if that meant putting him out of action for a while.”

Arys shot him a glare. “You’ve always been this way, Jaime. Making hasty decisions. Cutting corners. I never said much before. I can’t count the number of times I’ve had to save your ass from Internal Affairs. I just kept telling myself that it didn’t matter as long as we closed cases. But clearly it does.” He said, indicating his leg. “The doctors say I can’t get out of this bed for the next six weeks. After that, I have to undergo physical therapy for a few months until I’m declared fit for duty. And while I’m at it, my wife will probably have to take up another job to pay for the treatment.” Jaime started to say that he would pay for the treatment, but Arys raised a hand. “Forget it, Jaime. I don’t want any of your pity money. You’ll probably just borrow it from your father”

Jaime started to feel a little flustered. “How does it matter where I get the money as long as you get good treatment? I don’t understand, Oak. What is it you want me to do, then? What can I do to make up for this?”

“Well, you could leave, for starters.” His tone was firm. “I don’t even know why you came here.”

“Not until you tell me what went down that night.” Jaime spat back. “I knew _The Kraken_ was coming in that night and that we had strict orders not to touch Balon Greyjoy. I also know Selmy had you following me. What I don’t know is how you ended up there before me. I never shared what my CI told me. I told no one about that, not even you. But yet, you were there.”

Arys was speechless. “Get the fuck out. I’ve cleaned up your messes enough. I won’t have you throwing accusations at me in my house.”

Jaime stood up to leave. _I might have crossed a line there_. Arys was a proud man. He wouldn’t admit it. Not that Jaime suspected he was up to something, but it was rather odd. Neither would he take his money. Not willingly, anyway. He would have to think of some way to ease the load off his wife. He would be paid by the department and covered by insurance, no doubt, but only to an extent. That was where he came in. “I’ve been transferred.”

That piqued his curiosity. “Where to? Not the evidence room?”

He chuckled. “No. Homicide. But considering what went down, I’m guessing it’ll be a desk job for most of the time.”

“Who’s your partner?”

“Actually, that’s another thing I’d been meaning to ask you.” Jaime gathered his coat. “What do you know about Brienne Tarth?”


	2. Chapter 2

She sat at her desk, grinding her teeth, papers and photos strewn all over her table.

The Peeler had struck again. At least, that’s what the tabloids were calling him. The serial killer in question peeled the skin off his victims. That wasn’t even the worst part. According to the medical examiner, the peeling was done when the victims were still alive. Over the course of three years, he had struck fourteen times. So far, they hadn’t even come close to finding him. All they knew was his MO. They didn’t know how he chose his victims or whether he knew them. They hadn’t been able to draw a discernible connection between any of the victims, except that they were young girls in their 20s. On the face of it, they just seemed like random killings. _Maybe they were._

Getting up, Brienne stretched her arms and went to get herself a cup of coffee. The floor was empty tonight, except for a few officers. Every cop was either home or on patrol. It seemed like everyone had resigned to the fact that the Peeler couldn’t be found. Even Stannis Baratheon, her Captain, who rarely left before midnight, had taken off early. She didn’t have much by way of friends at work, but whomever she spoke to would suggest that she needed to loosen up, go out more. But not Stannis. Never Stannis. He would only be happy with the idea of someone so dedicated to their work that they end up sacrificing their personal lives. And most men didn’t want to date women taller than them.

As she sipped her coffee by the water fountain, her thoughts went back to her conversation with Stannis a few mornings ago. He told her that she would be assigned a partner, a narcotics detective from 12th. She remembered something about a partner getting shot and a heroin shipment from Pyke. Something, something, Balon Greyjoy. Everything seemed to stop at that. Greyjoy had good lawyers and probably half of King County’s force in his pocket and no District Attorney had ever been able to build a good case against him in the twenty-odd years he’d been operating, but someone had to talk. Any material witnesses they had against him over the years died under peculiar circumstances before they could testify. This was some keyed up Mafia-style bullshit, just without all the style. But as Stannis would say, _it’s not your lookout_.

She disagreed with his decision immediately, stating that she worked better alone. Stannis had already made the arrangements by then, so there was no changing his mind. She would have to put up with Jaime Lannister. It didn’t help that he had quite the reputation back at the 12th, or that he was real estate tycoon Tywin Lannister’s son. It was common knowledge at the precinct. If Greyjoy owned half of the force, Lannister owned the other half.

 

* * *

  

She woke up to the incessant ringing of her desk phone. It was morning by then. People had started coming in to work.

Dad was on the other line.

“Rough night?”

“Not really.” She grunted, still half-asleep. The midnight coffee run had done her no good. Her papers were as she left them. “Sorry I didn’t call last night.”

“That’s all right.” Selwyn Tarth was a big name in the local diamond cutting business. Her single greatest regret was that she could never bring herself to become a part of it, considering that she was an only child. “Why don’t you call it in today? Come home. Catch some shut-eye.”

“We gotta stop this guy, dad.” She said, arranging the papers back in order. “He’s toxic.”

“And not going anywhere, if I might add.” He sounded tired. “You need your sleep, honey.”

“All right, dad. I’ll try getting off early today.” She said, getting up as she saw Stannis speaking with the ME. “Captain’s here. I’ll call you later. Bye.”

Picking up her papers, she rushed to the captain’s cabin.

“Good morning, Captain. Dr. Stark.” She added, nodding at Sansa Stark, the medical examiner.

“Go on, Dr. Stark. We’ll discuss this later.” Stannis said, waving her out. Sansa smiled at her on her way out. She was a good kid. They were good friends, just not in front of the Captain.

Stannis motioned her to sit. He was wearing a white shirt underneath a grey jacket today, same as yesterday. She wondered if he had a cupboard full of white shirts and grey jackets at home, because that was all he seemed to wear. The walls of his cabin were adorned with trophies from way back when he was still a detective. She’d heard great stories of him when she joined the academy, but she never anticipated that she’d end up working under him someday.

“Did you spend the night here, Detective?” He asked her, for she must have looked disheveled.

“Yes, Sir. I was running down a new lead for the Kyra Pollock case.”

Stannis raised an eyebrow. “The Peeler’s first victim? Did the existing leads not pan out?”

“That’s what I’m not sure about, Sir.” She said, pulling out her file. “The evidence places her at the abandoned warehouse off the highway to Highgarden. But there was an accident on the road not far from the warehouse within a week of her disappearance. Her body was found ten days later. I think he moved her after the accident. He must’ve.”

He took the file from her, looking through the photos and evidence. “So where did he move her? Have you found out places he could have done so? Is there any evidence he did move her?”

She bit her lip. “Sir, I think we need to visit the warehouse once again. There might be some evidence, something we missed out last time. We need to sweep the place clean.”

He frowned. “We’ve already done that, Detective. Three years ago. Nothing came up. You’re asking me to give you a full team of cops and forensic experts based on a hunch.”

“It’s not just a hunch, Sir. You can’t ignore the timeline.”

“Well, get me something concrete. You haven’t given me much to work on.”

“Yes, Sir.” She got up and made to leave.

“Tarth.” He called after her as she left. “Meet with Detective Tyrell later. I believe he needs some help closing his case.”

 _So do I_ , she thought as she saw a tall, good-looking fellow walking towards her, wearing a suit which didn't do justice to his features.  _So do I_.


	3. Chapter 3

Jaime straightened his tie. The 14th precinct was going to be his new home till he retired. Or till they threw him out. Or till he died in action. He walked across the floor, looking for Captain Stannis Baratheon’s cabin. He passed a cute redhead in a white lab coat chatting someone up near the water fountain, a male cop with tousled long hair who looked more like a Victoria’s Secret model and what seemed like the tallest woman he’d ever seen. Well, you didn’t get to see many tall women around King’s Landing. She must have had at least two inches on him and he was 6’1”. She had beach blonde hair, cut short and a little unkempt. She wore a grey shirt over black trousers. The shirt stretched across her broad shoulders, but didn’t make her look too masculine.

He must’ve been dawdling because she walked right up to him. She had really blue eyes.

“Detective Lannister.” She said, her features grim. “I recognize you from _The Daily Times_.”

He chuckled. “Must’ve been quite the talk over here.”

“Yes, it was.” She continued, her sullen expression unchanged. “Cops don’t shoot their partners every day.”

That made him cringe. He’d been prepared for any and every insult his way, but any subconscious optimism he may have had for a good first day at work seemed to subside. The only thing left to do was brush it off.

“You should see the other guy.” He said, winking at her as he made his way towards what looked like Capt. Baratheon’s cabin.

“I’m your new partner.” She called after him.  _Fucking hell_.

“Bullshit.” He turned, forcing a smile. “You cracked open the tantrik case?”

Her face turned red. “I see you’ve done your homework.”

“Well, it’s only fair, considering you did the same.” He walked towards her, offering his hand. “Jaime Lannister.”

With a surprisingly strong grip, she shook it. “Brienne Tarth.”

He lingered for a moment, studying her. “I’ll go talk to the captain, see how we can get you to be more cheerful around here.”

Stannis Baratheon was everything Jaime expected him to be and more. The last time Jaime met him was a few years back at a fundraiser thrown for his brother Robert Baratheon, the Mayor of King County. He was an asshole then, and he sure as hell seemed like one now.

“Did I ask you to sit, Detective?” he asked, as Jaime forced himself to get up from his comfortable position.

“You shot your partner. You may have saved his life, but none of this would have happened if you had obeyed orders.” He said in a matter-of-fact manner, like he was commenting on the weather. “Selmy told me about the whole deal. You were given strict instructions to stay off Balon Greyjoy’s property. Why didn’t you?”

Jaime did not respond to that. He had his reply lined up, but thought it best to keep it to himself.

Stannis waited for a few moments, then continued. “Well, your father did buy you out. I don’t know why he did that. If you ask me, you should have quit the force yourself. I wouldn’t have been able to serve with a guilty conscience. Partner injured, department under investigation, you’ve managed to single-handedly bring a whole lot of heat down on the KLPD. None of this tomfoolery will go on in my house. My house, my rules. You got a problem with that, Lannister?”

To that he responded. “No, Sir.”

Stannis picked up his telephone receiver and dialed a number. “Yeah, come in here.”

In a few minutes, Brienne walked in.

“He will be working with you now. He will help you with the Peeler case and whatever leads you’re working on. Keep an eye on him. He so much as sneezes without following the correct protocol, I want to know about it. You will also take up other cases as they come.” Brienne opened her mouth in protest, but he raised a hand. “I will hear nothing. I can’t have my best detective stuck in a rut. We need to close cases. The Peeler can wait.”

He turned to Jaime. “You’re in Homicide now. We go to work when there’s a dead body. _Only_ when there’s a dead body.”               


	4. Chapter 4

It was only two weeks after Jaime officially shifted that he started missing his old life.

There was always something to surprise you in Narcotics. There was always a new synthetic drug in town or a pharmaceutical company covering up on illegal dealings or a foreign drug lord trying to set up shop in King’s Landing. He wasn’t selected often for undercover operations, considering that his face popped up in the tabloids every now and then (thanks to his father), but he was a good investigator, whose major skills lied in tracking and regulation of scheduled drugs. He knew of practically every drug which wasn’t available over-the-counter, medical effects included. His pharmacology degree was partly the reason he was selected for Narcotics. He was actually able to make a difference, sometimes by preventing crimes or deaths before they even took place. Here, you had someone who got killed by having an umbrella shoved down his throat. A fucking _umbrella_. Real intricate stuff. All he had to do here was clean up, find a perp, read him his rights and send him off to Dragonstone.

He had probably exhausted every cop cliché in the book. He played paper basket-ball for hours on end, while Brienne drained cup after cup of black coffee, going through leads on the Peeler case. He made pointless phone calls to different departments – traffic police, highway police, county police, looking for any updates on the Peeler. It was kind of hard to find a serial killer when no one had a sketch or any clues on his appearance, except that he was a white male and 6’2”. But well, if you have a serial killer on your hands, that means the first person didn’t do his job well enough.

He hung around by the water fountain, rummaging through the news for the odd mention of the maverick cop who shot his partner, while he chatted up the young ME, Sansa Stark. Incidentally, she was the daughter of Ned Stark, the Mayor Robert Baratheon’s longtime head of security. How did he know this? Well, his sister used to be married to that bumbling cunt. Maybe that’s why Stannis was such an asshole to him. But Jaime didn’t peg Stannis as the mix-work-and-ex-family type.

What was it with privileged kids from rich families working for the police? On one hand, there was him. He didn’t encounter many like him at the 12th. But when he stepped into this precinct, the place seemed filled with them. Brienne Tarth, Sansa Stark, Loras Tyrell, _Renly_ Baratheon – well, that one wasn’t a cop. He was an assistant DA, but close enough. Maybe it was the idea of working as a homicide detective like the ones from all the police procedurals on air which seemed appealing to them. He knew that was not his excuse for joining narcotics. When he joined, he was just looking for a job. That was motivated partly by not wanting to have anything to do with his family and partly by wanting to stick it to them.

He looked at his watch. It was close to 7:30. _Time to go_.

He packed up his bag and turned off his computer. “See you on Monday.” He said to Brienne and Loras, getting up from his desk.

“Are you going somewhere?” Brienne asked.

“Excellent deduction, Detective.” He said. “Yes, I am going home.”

“Did you make all the calls you were supposed to make today?”

“Yes, I did.”

She waited for a few moments, like she was expecting a more articulate response. “And?”

“No one has heard or seen a thing.” He said, exasperated. “Do you realize how little we have given them to work on? Male, 6’2”? A needle in a fucking haystack. A haystack the size of King’s Landing. How difficult it must be to find someone so tall. Tsk. I see three of us right here.”

Loras sniggered behind her. “You’ve been making calls for almost ten days. When were you going to tell me this?” she said, ignoring him.

 _I’m too old for this shit_. “When were you going to realize it yourself? Do you need me to actually spell it out for you? This late-sitting business is not going to work out for you, unless you decide to get out of the office, towards the actual evidence, instead of just making phone calls and staring at files all day. Get your head out of the box, detective. Change your working methods. Do some actual police work.”

“Oh, like you’ve been doing?” she shot back, getting up from her seat. “Tell me one positive way you’ve contributed to this case since you joined.”

“I just did.” He said cooling down, “And we will visit that Highgarden warehouse you didn’t tell me about.”

That surprised her. “How did you know about that?”

“Well, you’ve been googling it for the last four days. And I didn’t think you were planning on relocating, so my best guess is, crime scene.” He whistled. “So that’s set then. We’ll pay the warehouse a visit. But not now. Monday. Maybe we’ll take Dr. Stark and Detective Tyrell too. They don’t seem to have much to do around here anyways.” He chuckled, much to Loras’ indignation. “So what do you say, Detective?”

She gave a resigned nod. “Come in by 10. No later.”


	5. Chapter 5

She woke hours before the sun was up.

It was the same dream. Every night. She was alone on the streets of King’s Landing. It was high noon. Kids were playing baseball in the distance. They were unable to hear her scream. She had nothing to defend herself. The walls were closing in. The turrets and houses closed around her as bodies fell from above. The flurry of corpses was enough to block out the sun. She took a look at some of the bodies around her. They were rotting. The stench was unbearable. Soon enough, she had no place to stand without stepping on a body. They were all girls, young girls. They lay there, with their eyes glassy, naked, with the skin below their necks peeled off. One of them looked familiar. She pushed some corpses out of the way towards the girl to get a closer look at her face. The bodies continued to drop around her, making an unpleasant thudding noise as they hit the ground. When she got to the body, the face she saw was her own…

It had been six weeks since the Peeler accosted her on the telephone, a few days before his next and most recent victim, Grace Jones. He taunted her, telling her that the next victim’s blood would be on her hands. She never slept that night. Or the night after that. It was only after she got news of the victim that the nightmares started. She hadn’t told anyone about it so far. _Maybe when the time comes_. If that was meant to discourage her from continuing the investigation, she certainly didn’t take the hint.

She pulled on her shoes and went out for a quick run. Her soles burned as she ran the expanse of the Central Park. She ruminated over the events of the last few days. Contrary to her opinion of Lannister and his lackadaisical approach to working cases, he did have a point. It might actually be a good idea to revisit the warehouse. That was his first kill. He was bound to have made mistakes. There was a chance they might find something that the detectives working the case three years back did not.

As she put on her work boots, she groaned. She’d forgotten to ask Stannis permission to inspect the site. Without thinking further, she pulled out her cellphone, dialing Renly’s number.

“YO. What up, B?”

“Hey. Morning. Did I wake you?”

Renly shuffled about. She heard another man’s voice in the background. “No, no, no. Tell me.”

“Are you coming by the house this morning?”

“Sure I am. Got some paperwork to finish on our umbrella guy. Why, you planning on calling in sick?” he asked jokingly.

“No. it’s just…I need a favor. When you get there, can you tell Stannis that we’ll be going to the Pollock site? Tell him we should be back by 3.”

Renly chuckled. “I can tell him now, if you want. In case you’re forgetting, I live with the dude. And what do you mean _we_?”

 

* * *

 

 

They got out of the vehicle. The warehouse was just as they left it three years ago. Dingy, cold and uninviting. Sansa was texting someone. Jaime was talking to Loras about the equipment.

“So, you got that light thing?” he asked.

Loras looked at him like he’d just spoken to him in Mandarin. “Light thing?”

“Yeah, the light thing. You know, when you black out all the curtains and spray the walls and pull out a blue neon type deal, and try to check for blood spatter? You know, like on Dexter?”

Loras made a face, half between a smirk and a frown. “UV. Not neon. We’re homicide detectives, not custom mechanics in a Vin Diesel movie.”

That made her laugh. “Okay. So here’s what we’re going to do. Loras and I are going to visit the accident site. You two stay here and look for anything that our killer might have left. We’ll be back in a bit.”

“You’re not going to find anything at the accident site.” Jaime drawled. “Criminals usually run from crowds, not towards them.”

“You know, I’m tired of this second guessing. If you think you have a solution, tell me. What would the great Detective Lannister suggest?”

He shrugged.

“That’s what I thought.” She pulled on her jacket. “You may have been quite the hotshot back in Narcotics, but I'm guessing you know jack shit about homicides. Tell me, do you have any experience with casing a crime scene? Identifying a COD? Cause of death.” She stated before the question came out of his mouth. “Or did you just offer deals to college students and amateur oxy dealers? I run the show here. Come on, Tyrell. Let’s move.”

Loras gave her this huge stupid grin as they got into the vehicle.

“That was so badass! Nice touch with the calling him a hotshot.”

She put on her shades, allowing herself a smirk. _Hotshot_. That was mean, but, well…

As they pulled out of the driveway, she heard Jaime talking to Sansa. “Is she always this charming?”


End file.
